The Martian War

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


THE EYE OF THE GRAND LUNAR

The longer we remain captives, the less chance we have to escape,” Wells said. “Our time is short.”

Jane labored beside him at the pumping station as heavy pistons chugged up and down, and foul-smelling steam hissed into the close catacombs. It had been only a day, but they were both very hungry. “I’m ready to escape when you are, H.G.—as soon as either of us thinks of a way.”

If thousands of Selenite drones had been unable to break free after centuries of bondage, he couldn’t imagine how two humans might manage it. Still, he said, “We should concoct a scheme together—our collaborative ideas are much better than anything I come up with alone.”

Her arms and face were splattered with dark grease, and her chestnut hair had come undone, hanging loose around her face, yet even under these difficult circumstances, he found her more beautiful than ever. Jane was a strong woman and would endure whatever was required of her.

Isabel, on the other hand, would have wilted like a flower in such an ordeal. She would not have lasted an hour in the work catacombs beneath the cities of Mars. Grave and lovely Isabel was a product of her times, with no aspirations or interests other than planting a flower garden, doing embroidery, or sipping tea with her lady friends. Wells blamed himself for their fruitless marriage, too blind to recognize that his cousin would never fit comfortably with his intense curiosities. His own dissatisfaction, not Isabel’s personal failings, had driven him from her.

Jane, though, had always been willing to share her ideas, and if she disagreed with his grand pronouncements, she would debate with him as an equal, though she had been only his student. When she needed more explanation, she boldly asked him questions, insisting that he go over a lesson again and again until she understood the topic. And in parrying her probing questions, Wells often found that he himself didn’t comprehend the subject as well as he had thought.

“Remember when we resolved together to cure each other of ignorance?” he said to her now. “Let us similarly resolve to get ourselves free of this predicament and destroy the Martian threat.”

“I accept the challenge,” she said, making him smile. Her eyes were bright with determination instead of hopelessness.

A tone resonated through their silver collars, and a wordless but nevertheless clear command summoned him, Jane, and the Selenite drone crew to the surface levels. Wells’s stomach tightened as he feared that the ravenous Martians were staging another butchery. How long would it be before the Martians grew curious as to what human blood tasted like?

He tugged unsuccessfully on the hated slave collar. “Once they take over the Earth, they’ll have all the fresh red blood they can stomach.”

But when they reached the street level and stood surrounded by the strange twisted spires of Martian architecture, he spotted that one of the glowing energy conduits had slipped from its track. A thick containment pipe was knocked out of alignment, sparking a bluish-white power flow into the air.

Jane also seemed relieved. “Just repairs. They want us to fix the conduit.”

Wells grumbled. “Is it possible they have grown so dependent on the Selenite workers they can no longer maintain their own technology?”

“It may soon come to that,” Jane said.

Hundreds of Selenites scurried around the power conduit supports, climbing the sides of buildings and tinkering with the components. Two drones touched the naked pulsing energy and died, spasming. Other Selenites carried off the twitching soot-stained bodies of their fallen fellows, while more of them climbed up to take their places.

The alien buildings were huge, and shadowy forms of Martian brains stirred behind the glittering segmented windows, but still the city seemed like a gigantic empty house, with far fewer Martians than Selenites. Only three of the slave-master walkers watched over the entire work crew, static whips ready.

Jane saw it, too. “Maybe this is our chance.”

Wells did not know if the slave masters were eavesdropping. “We greatly outnumber the Martians, even with their heat rays and powerful machines. If only we could rally the Selenites.”

Jane lifted her eyebrows and proudly reached into the folds of her tattered dress and withdrew the faceted gem, the petrified jewel-eye the Grand Lunar had removed from its face. “I’ve been wondering how we can use this. The Selenites won’t do anything without a command from the Grand Lunar—maybe this is close enough.”

Wells brightened, excited by the possibilities. “If only we could communicate with them, tell them what to do.”

Following the instructions through their collars, the drone workers moved down the winding Martian street, adding supports and making repairs to other dilapidated power conduits that ran from building to building. The three slave masters in their small walking contrivances spread out, lashing static whips whenever necessary.

Moving close to a drone, Jane guardedly cupped the purplish gem in the palm of her hand and held it out so the Selenite slave could see. “This is from your Grand Lunar. Do you recognize it?”

The Selenite turned its ant-like head toward her, directing large burnished eyes at Jane’s face, then down at her hand. The thin white creature froze. A dozen other drones stopped working as well. Now a rattling chitter began, at first quietly, then growing to a strange excited hum. The Selenites backed away from her, bowing their smooth heads as if in awe.

Wells was amazed at the reaction. These Selenite drones had been in captivity on Mars for many centuries, many generations. None of the creatures here on the red planet had ever seen the gardens on the Moon, or the Grand Lunar. Yet it immediately recognized the talisman from the powerful leader of all Selenites. He wondered if the drones possessed a form of racial memory transmitted from one generation to the next … or perhaps they were just one interconnected hive mind, a sentience distributed across the numerous Selenite components. Individual drones might die, but the hive brain continued.

He would have to remember to discuss the matter with Professor Huxley, once they had all escaped.

“Can you help us?” Wells said, sure the drones would never understand his words. “We must find a way to break free. We have to stop what the Martians intend to do to Earth.” He made broad gestures with his hands and arms.

The Selenites looked at Wells, but found him lacking in some way. When Jane spoke again, though, the drones responded with genuine interest. “We need your help. Please.” It seemed as if her possession of the talisman, the eye of the Grand Lunar, made her a worthy commander.

A humming discussion swept up and down the alien street to the entire Selenite work crew. As the twittering mutters continued, Wells noticed a difference in the character of the city itself. Before, the metropolis had been eerily devoid of voices, with only the hiss and grind of machinery. Now, though, like a jolt from a battery, the Martian city seemed to have come to life again … angry, restless life.

A clanking echoed down the curving, crowded streets. One of the ominous fighting tripods stalked among the tall buildings and structures. It let out a loud “Ulla!” to announce its arrival and careened down the boulevards toward the Martians’ central cathedral of science. As it stopped next to a high platform outside of the immense building, they could just make out tiny figures emerging, a tall human herded by three bulky Martians into the main cathedral building. “Look, it’s Professor Huxley!”

Relieved to see his mentor safe, Wells said, “This is not a time for rational planning and analysis. If the Selenites can help us, now is our chance. With any luck, we can rescue Professor Huxley and get away from this city.”

“With any luck,” Jane repeated with a sardonic laugh. “That’s only one of many pieces of luck we’ll need to get out of this.”

“Jane, my dear, we are attempting to overthrow a planet and save our race. One must hope for a bit of good fortune. Now, if only you could convince the Selenites to create some sort of massive distraction.”

Jane gestured to the nearest slave master clomping toward them in its squat walking machine. “We need to get away from the Martians. Do you know how we might break free?”

The silent drone turned its blank insect face at her, as if incapable of making a response. She asked another Selenite, and a third, but received the same silence.

“These are drones, Jane—docile, cooperative, and hardworking. They don’t know how to respond when you ask for suggestions. They need a master mind to command them, whether it’s the Grand Lunar or these Martian slave masters.” His blue eyes narrowed, and he clutched her arm. “Or you, Jane. They listen to you. So, give them instructions.”

Jane’s hard anger and disgust with what the Martians were doing found its focus; Wells saw it on her face. She raised her voice to rally the Selenites around her. “The Martian city functions only because of your labor! I command you to ignore all instructions the Martians give you, for I bear the talisman of the Grand Lunar. Listen only to me.”

Though they still made no answer, the Selenites ceased their work and looked up at her. Disturbed by the odd restless behavior of the Selenites, the three slave masters strode about, slashing with static whips. From their walker domes, the Martians sent stern commands vibrating through the collars again. But the Selenites did not budge. They had received other orders from Jane.

“Now shut down the machinery. Cut power to the city.” Jane looked over at Wells, who nodded vigorously.

The Selenites threw themselves into their new task, falling to their uprising as if it were simply another job. The drone crew spread out and methodically began ripping free the conduit supports they had just installed and knocking down the heavy power channels. Sparks rained out in all directions. Shimmers of energy in the tall Martian turrets went dark.

The slave masters strode about in their ostrich-like walkers, vigorously trying to impose order with static whips. One of the gushing power conduits fell down upon the nearest slave master, and the machine jittered and sparked. Inside its now-darkening dome, the bloated Martian brain lay in a smoking heap. When the power surge died, the Selenites banded together and pushed until they toppled the walking contrivance to the ground.

The other two slave masters sounded a loud alarm of “Ulla! Ulla!” Wells ran toward the fallen walker. “Jane, if you use the communication device, you can send specific commands through the collars.” The Martian had opened the dome of the small walker halfway in an attempt to escape before being electrocuted. Wells shoved the dome the rest of the way open and found the small apparatus with which he had seen the slave masters issue their hateful orders. He held it up. “It still appears to be functional. Here, try it.”

Jane held the device, saw how it was designed to resonate with all the slave collars, and then continued with the fervor of a syndicalist labor organizer. The Selenites around them finally understood precisely what she wanted them to do. “Destroy the generators and the atmosphere-pumping stations! Break down the water-distribution network, block the canals! You can all do it. Bring these evil masters to a standstill.”

Now the Selenites excelled in their methodical mayhem. Drones smashed through crystal sheets that formed large windows. They cracked open the streamlined canal, spilling water like cold, clear blood all down the Martian streets. Selenites splashed through the vital water as they moved to other targets.

While Wells and Jane cheered in delight, the lunar slaves raced about in diligent silence just like the ominously quiet Martians.

From the work tunnels beneath the metropolis, explosions rang out. Pistons and underground generators were sabotaged, their gears jammed, their couplings frozen. Geysers of steam poured out of hydrothermal vents, blasting the paving mosaics of the Martian streets.

Within minutes the alien city was caught up in a hurricane of rebellion. Wells had expected Jane’s command to affect only the drone workers around them, but he could see that the revolt was spreading with amazing rapidity throughout the metropolis. Apparently, the signal had traveled among all the nearby slave collars, and the Selenites had spread the call.

“You certainly know how to create a diversion, Jane.”

She fixed her eyes on the huge tripod that had just returned to the cathedral of science. “Come on, H.G. Let’s get Professor Huxley.”